Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was somber, the air thick with tension and the weight of recent events. Ingrid held a handkerchief to her head, pressing it lightly against the wound, while Christine sat in front of her, her expression etched with concern.
The carriage moved with a slow, steady rhythm, the creaking of its wheels echoing in the silence of the night. Outside, the chirping of crickets provided a soothing sound to the otherwise tense atmosphere.
Christine glanced at Ingrid, her gaze filled with worry. "Are you really feeling okay, Your Highness?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.
Ingrid offered her a gentle smile. "I'll be alright, Christine," she said reassuringly. "It's just a scratch from grazing my head on the ground. I managed to land safely with my arm... and these riding clothes are sturdier than they look."
